


Couples Retreat

by Madam_Fandom



Series: Requested [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Foot Massage, It's For a Case, Johnlock - Freeform, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Minor Molly Hooper/Greg Lestrade, Prompt Fic, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Undercover as a Couple, cross dressing, drabble turned fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:39:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7433327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Fandom/pseuds/Madam_Fandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Couples are turning up missing at a very high class couples retreat; and the only way to get to the bottom of it is for John and Sherlock to go under cover as a couple.</p><p>Story started off as a bit of drabble but by request I turned it into a complete fic. Hope you all like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Wow. Just...wow.” John stared at Sherlock slacked jawed and in disbelief.

“John I look utterly ridiculous. No one is going to believe I am your freakishly tall wife. You should have been the woman.”

“You look, um, you look…” John had a small fit of giggles. Sherlock stared at him.

Pulling himself together, John tried again. “Um, yeah sorry about that, just caught me off guard. You...look...amazing Sherlock. And you're much prettier than I am, that is why you are the woman.” John walked a circle around Sherlock, looking him over from head to toe. “Wow, Molly and Mrs. Hudson really out did themselves. And are you sure you don't want to ask Molly to stand in as your wife?”

“Despite my hardened exterior I do care about Molly and would never put her through that. It would be cruel.”

“Right. Okay then, my turn.” John marched downstairs so that Molly and Mrs. Hudson could give him a makeover as well. They were going to tint his hair and apply fake facial hair. Nothing too far-fetched for him.

Several hours later Sherlock and John found themselves seated in a great room with 7 other couples. They had gone undercover at a secret couples retreat. About a week ago a couple went missing, no sign of them anywhere. Sherlock had shown up asking questions but no one would speak to him. The retreat was strictly for couples, no exceptions and by invite only. Of course, Mycroft was able to get them an invite with minimal amount of effort.

John was sitting on a chaise lounge and Sherlock was sitting across his lap with John’s hand resting on Sherlock’s thigh.

Sherlock was covertly using the window to watch the room, looking for any suspicious behavior. He was so engrossed in his observations he didn’t hear their host request. One moment he was watching through the window, and the next John had him by the chin, turning him so that they faced one another and then WHAM! John’s lips were pressed against his. It was a very soft, meeting of their lips at first. They pulled apart briefly looking each other in the eyes and then Sherlock crushed his mouth to John's, kissing him for all he was worth. Trying to pour the last several years of yearning into the one kiss.

Someone cleared their throat. John broke the kiss off staring at Sherlock as if he was seeing him for the first time. Sherlock's lips were slightly swollen and his lipstick was all smeared. Sherlock reached a hand up and with a thumb wiped the lipstick from John’s lips.

Someone cleared their throat again. “That was quite the demonstration, Mr. and Mrs. Williams. Such passion, you two still kiss like it is your first time. Admirable. Okay, who's next?” Their host turned away, addressing another couple. John was staring at Sherlock, a bit bewildered at what they had just done.

Sherlock fished out a compact mirror from his purse and looking in it pouted, “Oh dear, you’ve smeared my lipstick, I look a mess.”


	2. Chapter 2

John continued to look at Sherlock in utter disbelief. And in a very Sherlock manner, he had reapplied his lipstick and was back staring at the room through the window. John hadn't realized that the hand on Sherlock's thigh was absently stroking him, slowly raising his dress.  
  
"I suppose you two will want to be excused now." A man stood beside their seat speaking to them. Sherlock and John looked up at the man and Sherlock recognized him as the host's husband.  
  
"That won't be necessary," Sherlock said turning away from the man, dismissing him.  
  
"Actually, yes, we would like to be excused. Unfinished business and all. You understand." John said.  
  
"Of course. It is why you're here is it not?"  
  
  
  
Sherlock was looking at John calculatingly. _What was he up to?_ John patted Sherlock on the leg to signal him to get up. Sherlock gracefully removed himself from John's lap. John was getting up as well when the man added, "Your wife is very lovely Mr. Williams, I would hold tight to her at night, wouldn't want anyone sneaking in and taking her."  
  
John laughed off the comment and replied, "Thank you. Sherly is quite lovely. But she is a cuddler and if anyone tried taking her from me I'm sure to know and they'll have a fight on their hands. Goodnight sir."  
  
John tapped Sherlock on the butt to get him moving forward. Sherlock yelped at the unexpected gesture.  
  
  
  
When thethey left the room, John started up the stairs. Sherlock grabbed his arm, "What are you playing at John? We should be back in there watching everyone."  
  
"I figured we could use this time to search some of the rooms," John explained. They heard a voice headed towards them from down the stairs. The stairs curved around and they were stopped in between floors. The person below them would run into them any moment and if they tried going up they would be seen. Their room was on the ground floor and they had no excuse why they should be going up the stairs. They had a split second to think of an excuse why they were on the stairs needlessly.  
  
Just as the person whose voice they heard came around the corner. Sherlock leaned against the wall pulling John's mouth down to his. He duplicated the intensity of the kiss from a moment ago. It wasn't really hard to do because he had wanted John since the moment he met him.    
  
John returned the kiss with just as much enthusiasm. They were both so engrossed in their kiss they hadn't heard the man's question. He tapped John on the shoulder. Startled John pulled away, staring at Sherlock. His eyes were dilated and lipstick smeared again. He grinned at the detective. He wished he could take a picture of him like this so one, he would always have it and two, he could tease Sherlock about it in the years to come.  
  
  
  
"I asked what are you two doing up here?"  
  
Sherlock grinned looking sheepishly away and pulled his dress down. John in his role playing had started to hike the dress up.  
  
"Uh, sorry." John finally looked away from Sherlock and to the man, it was one of the concierges as the host had called them. They walked the grounds making sure everyone was happy and had what they needed. "We uh, couldn't remember how to get back to our room and I couldn't wait." He ducked his head blushing, "I figured everyone was in the great room there was no risk. Sorry about that."  
  
"No harm done. I won't tell anyone. Let me show you the way back to your room.


	3. Chapter 3

John held Sherlock's hand as they followed the concierge down the steps. When they reached the bottom, Sherlock walked out in front of John chatting up their guide. John watched the sway of Sherlock's arse as he walked in what Sherlock called sensible heels. Sherlock was a great actor when he needed to be, he was the perfect embodiment of feminine grace and beauty. He giggled and touched lightly, showed interest and all of the other little things that women did to make men feel good about themselves. But the really extraordinary part was Sherlock did these things seamlessly. He walked soft and feminine like, he kept most of the bass out of his voice. Most people would have forgotten about all these things and have let one of the facades slip.

 

They made it to their room. Sherlock slipped inside, John was following behind him when the concierge touched him on the shoulder. “Uh yes?”

“That’s quite the woman you got there. Smart, and pretty, but not in a conventional way. If you two are ever looking for a third party, let me know.” He slipped John a piece of paper, he assumed had the man’s number on it. John not sure the proper response thanked him and entered the room behind Sherlock. What greeted him gave him pause, Sherlock had shed the dress and was in a form fitting black slip, he had one long stocking clad leg balanced on the bed as he bent to try and open the buckle on his heels.

John approached, his mouth suddenly dry. He had a strong desire to run his hands up those silky legs to Sherlock’s firm arse. Shaking his head to clear it of the image John sat down on the bed.

Sherlock stood up, placing his foot on the floor.

John spread his legs and gestured up with his hands. When Sherlock didn’t move, just standing there in his tight black slip, John patted the bed between his thighs.

Finally getting it, Sherlock carefully placed his foot there.

John’s hands shook just a little as he unbuckled Sherlock's shoe. He placed a hand on the back of his calf as he pulled the shoe off. The stocking was so silky, John wanted to run his hand up and down the material.

Sherlock braced his hand on John’s shoulder as he placed his other foot on the bed for John to help him out of the other one. But this time John placed a hand on his knee sliding it down until his hand reached the shoe. He proceeded to remove the shoe in the same manner. Sherlock sucked in a breath. This was torture. Why had John kissed him in the great room? And why did he in turn kiss John on the stairs. Logically his mind told him, _‘it's for a case!_ _’_ but he knew he had kissed John simply because he wanted to and knew he could get away with doing it without any questions being asked.

John was a superb kisser. Absently he touched his fingers to his lips. He would love nothing more than to kiss John again, to get lost in the taste, touch, and smell of his friend.

John saw Sherlock touch his lips. Was he remembering the kiss? Because John couldn’t forget it. He wished he hadn’t kissed Sherlock. It was all he could think about now. Well, that and slipping this tight little number from Sherlock’s body. And rolling down the stockings after he unhooked them from the garters with his teeth.

He’d had no choice in kissing Sherlock, they were undercover and their host had requested it. But Sherlock hadn’t needed to kiss him on the stairway.

John patted Sherlock’s calf signalling him that he could remove his foot.

 

Sherlock sighed, turned and dropped flat on his back onto the bed. “My feet are killing me, apparently, the shoes weren’t sensible enough.”

John pulled one of Sherlock’s feet onto his lap and began massaging it through the nylon.

Sherlock groaned, “Bless you, god that feels good.”

John felt his face go hot and his cock twitch in response. Did Sherlock not know what he sounded like?

“So, we can’t sneak out right now and have a look around like you had suggested, we’ll have to wait for tonight. Ohhh, goodness John, have you been taking lessons?”

John wasn’t sure how much longer he could take of Sherlock’s porn act before he lost it. He pushed Sherlock’s foot off his lap and grabbed the other one. Looking over at his companion, it was so easy to imagine they were here for other reasons, doing things that would lead to- that was definitely better left unsaid. Sherlock had one arm under his head and the other rest across his forehead, his eyes were closed and mouth parted just a bit.

“So, as I was saying, we could go out tonight after everyone is supposed to be sleep.” Sherlock looked up at John, “You’re awfully quiet, you all right?”

“Yes, yes quite. What are you suggesting? Most of the doors will be locked after hours.”

Sherlock was leaned back on his elbows watching John’s face, something was wrong. John massaged a particularly sore spot, and he couldn’t help but moan out, christ it felt good.

Oh. John was turning red and his hands faltered on his feet. Sherlock took everything in about John in that moment, thought about his actions and lack of talking in the past ten minutes and made his deduction. Sitting up to get a better look, he was right. John was obviously aroused at the moment. Sherlock hadn’t meant to do anything to cause this. Well, this was awkward. He pulled his foot free from John’s hand and lap. Standing up he stretched and he could feel John’s eyes on him, looking down he blushed. He was still wearing the ridiculous slip, and just a hint of his own arousal was evident, although he didn’t think John could see it from his angle.

Sherlock bent over to grab his coat that he’d taken off along with the dress. Straightening, he turned to John, he saw that John was now looking away, his face was still red, and his hands were in his lap, most likely an attempt to hide his erection. Sherlock held out a set of keys for John to see.

“What’s this?” he asked looking up at him.

“I took the concierge's keys as we were talking. Now we can go anywhere we like.” Sherlock smiled clearly proud of himself.

“I guess you have thought it all out. Well, almost.”

Sherlock frowned at John, “What do you mean, almost?”

John scratched the back of his neck and looked away. “The host and the room full of couples are all under the impression you and I came back to the room to have sex.”

“And?”

“There are always signs that two people have recently had sex, especially _passionate_ sex.”

“I see.”

John looked up then. “Do you?”

Sherlock looked John in the eyes, “Yes. We must mark one another and possibly have a wank so that we have that ‘just had sex look’ about us.”


	4. Chapter 4

John wanted to kick himself. Nothing ever flustered Sherlock Holmes. He was the only idiot sitting here turning red in the face. When he looked up to tell Sherlock he didn’t think it was necessary, his words froze in his mouth. Sherlock had just taken off the slip and all he had on was an expensive looking pair of pants. They were men pants but they were low cut and cupped his rear nicely. Sherlock’s back was to him as he dug in his bag on the floor, pulling out a pair of black sweat pants.

Turning around Sherlock saw John staring in his direction, mouth hanging open. “Are you alright John?”

“Uh- uh, yeah, quite. Um, what are you doing?”

Sherlock placed his hands on his hips as he answered John, he sounded clearly aggravated. “Nothing yet. Do you plan on taking off your shirt?”

“W-what, why would I?”

“Really John. Do try to keep up. So that we can make out like a couple of randy school kids.”

John jumped up from the bed running a hand roughly through his hair. “I don’t think that’s necessary Sherlock. If we each take a hot shower our skin will glow just the same. And we can explain away the love bites by saying I or you think they are tacky, and we keep them below the collar.”

“But I don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Think they’re tacky. I think they are lovely, showing that somebody loves you.”

“Love? Never pegged you as a romantic.”

“You’ve never pegged me.”

“And a flirt? Are you flirting with me right now Sherlock? A romantic, flirting Sherlock? Who are you and what have you done with my Sherlock?”

Sherlock looked at John at his slip. John looked back, obviously mortified. “Uh...I mean...Christ. Dammit all to Hell.”

Sherlock smiled at a flustered John. He was aware that John and other people assumed he had no relationship or sexual experience, but that wasn’t exactly true. He allowed them all to think that all the same, it hadn’t mattered what they thought of his experience.

In the end, Sherlock decided to go for broke, as the saying goes. He threw his sweat pants over the corner of the bed and approached John slowly. He saw John take him in from his feet, to his erection secreted away in his fancy black pants, to his lips and finally his eyes. His breathing was picking up, he was such an emotional scamp always getting worked up over nothing.

John thought he was going to pass out, he couldn’t breath. What on earth had gotten into Sherlock, was he experimenting on him again. “Are you having a joke? Or some type of experiment?” he asked as Sherlock stopped in front of him.

Sherlock placed a hand on John's shoulder looking down at him. He placed his knee on the bed to the side of John so that he half straddled his friend. “No joke, no experiment. If you want me, you can have me.” He took John’s hand and ran it over his chest then down to rest on hip. “John, I can see you are aroused, there are no expectations, nothing has to go beyond this room.”

John was both intrigued and disappointed. He had been pining after Sherlock for years and here Sherlock was giving him the equivalent of a one night stand option. Of course he would love to see what it was like to be with Sherlock Holmes, but he also wanted to be _with_ Sherlock, beyond this room. He wasn’t sure how he should respond.

“Look Sherlock, I don’t think-” John’s words were suddenly cut off by Sherlock kissing him.

 

Sherlock cut off John’s refusal with a kiss. He’d seen the signs that he was about to turn him down. But why? He was obviously attracted to him enough to become aroused. Why would he not want to have no strings attached sex? They were friends. Didn’t friends do that? He stopped his thinking and put everything into the kiss. He carded one of his hands through John’s short hair, raking his nails against his scalp. John moaned against Sherlock's mouth, exciting him further. He brought his other leg up so he was fully straddling John, he pushed him down, all the while kissing him.

John tightened his hold on Sherlock’s hip. Belatedly he wondered when did Sherlock wipe off the lipstick. This was good, he could snog him here, for the case and just leave it at that, no sex. That way it’ll be easier when they got back to Baker Street. John brought his other hand up splaying it in the middle of Sherlock’s back as they kissed. Sherlock kissed down to his neck, John gave an embarrassingly loud moan.

 

Sherlock ground his hips down against John as he sucked and nibbled at his neck. The sounds John was making was making it hard for Sherlock to focus. John breathed out his name and he faltered, his name sounded lovely rolling off John’s tongue. He rolled his hips more insistently.

John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, loving the silky texture of it. He tugged Sherlock’s head away from his neck gently, arching up he sucked the skin at Sherlock’s pulse into his mouth. Running his teeth over it, followed by his tongue. “John!” The sound of John’s name had him rolling them over so he was nestled between Sherlock’s legs, the man’s thighs cradling him. As he gave Sherlock the same treatment he’d gotten he thrust against him, his prick weeping in his pants. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to peel these tight silky pants off of Sherlock. He bit Sherlock on the shoulder, the detective arched against him, nails digging into his back. “Ple-pleassse John”

John rocked against Sherlock, more urgently, licking into his mouth, barely even kisses anymore. There was just stuttered breaths and moans. Sharp nails and teeth.

“Joooohn!” Sherlock started to come, saturating his pants in the process.

John pulled back watching as Sherlock in the throes of his orgasam, wanting to memorize every detail, knowing that not only will things change after this, but also he so would never have another chance again.

Sherlock gripped at John’s back as spasm after spasm rolled through him.

As John reached his own orgasm he captured Sherlock’s lips in a tender kiss, moaning his release as he gently cupped  his face.

Sherlock was suddenly overcome with emotion, he felt tears threaten behind his lids. John lay on him, head now tucked between Sherlock’s neck and shoulder. His breathing was labored but slowing. In a moment of vulnerability Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, holding him briefly close. As he went to release John, John rolled pulling Sherlock with him so that he was now tucked in under his arm. Sherlock squirmed until he was out of John’s embrace, turning away quickly so the other man couldn’t see his tears he hopped off the bed heading towards the bathroom. “Thank you John, that was- helpful.”

 

 _Helpful?_ _What the actual fuck?_ Who was this cock? He went from bashful about anything dealing with sex to an obviously experienced sex kitten. Who evidently had no qualms with quick shags. John took off his jumper and the shirt beneath. Taking his undershirt he wiped himself down, reaching into his pants to clean himself as much as possible. Throwing his jumper back on he left the room. It was almost dinner time, he supposed he could leave and be back by then for appearance sake.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock stood with his head against the cold tile as the water washed down his body. This had gone all wrong. It was wrong. They shouldn’t have crossed that line. Sherlock had only been thinking about satisfying his body so that there would be no more distractions. But it hadn’t turned out the way he envisioned. His bloody emotions crept up on him at some point during their exchange and his body kicked into overdrive. 

He felt wanton, instead of being satisfied he felt starved. He needed more from John. And he had a feeling John was willing to give it to him. But he suspected John wanted things Sherlock wasn’t sure he was able to give in return. His subconscious yelled at him ‘What about the tears then?’, what indeed. To be honest there wasn’t actually any tears. But he had come close, which was why he was currently hiding in the shower instead of out there talking about the case with his one and only best friend.   
  
Sherlock began washing while he attempted to get his head together. The two of them were here on a case and they would have to continue the act until they were back at Baker Street and then they could discuss all of this.    
Once done Sherlock did a precursory dry off and wrapped the towel around his hips. All his clean clothes were in the other room. Preparing himself he left the bathroom only to find the adjoining room empty.    
  


Sherlock selected a sleek black pants suit to wear. It would allow him the freedom of trousers and he could wear flats, perfect for sneaking around in the dark. Now he just had to find John.   
  


 

John walked aimlessly around the compound, looking at and for nothing in particular. He found himself in the gardens. It was indoors with a glass dome enclosure. John could see night had finally fallen and with it, his hopes of there ever being something more between Sherlock and himself. The rest of this case was going to be hell. How was he suppose to act like a besotted husband knowing that his ‘wife’ didn’t want him? Sherlock had made it painfully clear that what had happened between them was strictly for physical release, it meant nothing more to the detective.   
  
John found himself a secluded dark corner to sulk in, wanting to have himself a little cry, but knowing this wasn’t the time nor place for it. After about ten minutes time someone sat next to him. John wasn’t really concerned with who it was. There was apparently plenty of swinging couples here, but if he didn’t engage the person, perhaps they would go away. 

“Hello.” Came a low sultry female voice.

John turned intrigued by the quality of the voice. “Good evening.”

“You’ve had yourself a little domestic.”

It wasn’t a question and John didn’t mistake it for one. “How’d you know?”

“I’m very good at reading people.” The woman smiled warmly. “Take for instance, although you find me attractive you care about your wife very much and if I asked you to a discreet corner you would decline.”

John shook his head and scratched his eyebrow, “That’s something you and my wife have in common, the ability to read people, to cut right through the bullshit and just lay it all out.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“You’re very kind, but no thank you. I’m sure your husband is around here somewhere looking for you, it is a couples retreat after all.”

“Well, we’re all here because of trouble in paradise. And like you, my husband and I had a row the other night, haven’t seen him since. He’s either gone home without me or is shacked up with one of these other couples.”   
  
John went instantly on alert. Could this couple be targeted as well? “Here, here’s my number. If you ever need to talk or feel threatened in any way, call me. I’m an ex-soldier and a doctor.” John wrote his number on a piece of paper. He had in his pocket. 

The woman laughed, “What could I possibly need an ex-soldier or doctor for?”

John shrugged, trying to seem carefree and friendly. 

“Well thank you. But I better be going, your wife, I presume, is giving me the evil eye.” 

John looked around the woman and sure enough, Sherlock was standing there, several yards away tapping his foot with his arms crossed.

“Uh yeah, that would be my lovely wife.”

The woman smiled. “Tall. But lovely indeed. Goodnight…?”

“John.”

The woman stood up and nodded to him. “Goodnight John.”    
  


 

John watched as the woman gave Sherlock a polite smile as she hurriedly walked out of the gardens. John stood up and approached Sherlock.

“It’s just about dinner time.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“Hungry?”

“Nope. I’ve no appetite.”

 

Sherlock pouted prettily. And John tried not to be drawn to his mouth. Tried and failed to not notice how lovely Sherlock was in general. He wanted to hug him tightly and tell him that he was okay with the occasional shag as long as they remained. But he knew it would be a lie. He wanted more from Sherlock.    
  
“Who was that woman?”

“'Scuse me?”

“John, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took advantage of you and your body.”

John laughed a humorless laugh. “You’ve no bloody idea what you’re apologizing for do you?”

“Foooor taking advantage of your body’s need for release. I’ve told you, weren’t you listening?”

“No dammit!” John yelled. Balling his fist he tried to get his emotions under control. “No.” he hissed in a strained whisper. “I- I love you dammit. And all I am to you is a means to an end. I can’t be that for you Sher- Sherly. I need you, all of you. Not just the parts you’re willing to lend out.”

 

Sherlock was mortified. He had suspected this, but hearing John speaking so low as he often did when he was emotional, hearing the actual words, it made him feel like crap. A lot like the one Christmas when he’d deduced Molly’s special gift. He’d felt awful, same as now. 

John stood in front of him, begging him with a look, his body language. But Sherlock just couldn’t give him what he wanted, he couldn’t. It wasn’t in him. 

“I’m sorry John. I- I didn’t realize.” Sherlock took a deep breath and prepared to say the cruelest words he had ever uttered to John. “I can’t give you what you want John. I-...”

  
  


John stood up straight, hands cuffed to his sides. He ground his teeth and turned and walked away. He couldn’t believe this wanker. He was a complete and utter cock. John was seething, he wanted to turn around and punch that perfect face. But he was currently playing a lady and John couldn’t punch a lady. 

As John made his way back through the halls to their room he was greeted with pitying stares. What was everyone staring at? Belatedly he realized he was crying. _Fucking hell_.

Making it back to their room, John took out his mobile phone, looking at the time as he unlocked the door. 

Someone grabbed him from behind, covering his mouth with their hands. They had huge strong hands and they were much taller than John, easily holding him immobile, stopping any blows he tried to land. After a few moments John’s head lolled to the side as he passed out.


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock trudged back to their room, he wasn't sure what to say to John, or how to fix this; well that wasn’t exactly true. He wasn't ready. It wasn’t that he didn’t care or desire John, he just wasn’t sure if emotionally he was capable. People had been telling him for years he was a sociopath, was he supposed to believe he had just woken up one day as a normal, emotionally and socially adept individual?

As Sherlock was approaching their door he saw some items on the floor, as he got closer he panicked, John’s room key and mobile phone were on the floor as if dropped. John was never careless with keys or their security. Not to mention he took good care of his belongings, mobile notwithstanding.

Sherlock picked up the items and took in the scene, trying to stay objective. The floor was tile and there were no scuff marks or dirty shoe prints. Sherlock walked back the way he came looking for scuffs, a sign of a struggle anything to go on. After tracing his steps all the way back to the garden he turned back to the room and went in the opposite direction from the room. Since John wouldn’t have gone willingly he imagined his kidnapper would need to get out of sight quickly. Going in this direction led away from the common areas and into the staff area. The kitchen, laundry, sleeping quarters and probably more. Sherlock was just about to turn around when he hit the staff’s wing. It was carpeted and Sherlock noticed right off footprints that sunk into the carpet. Stepping next to them Sherlock was able to gauge the capture wore a size 12 and a half shoe, so most likely tall, 5’11 to 6’4 maybe. Also, he was strong, he would have to be to carry John Watson this far. Sherlock had observed how his own footprint barely left an impression on the carpet. Whereas these other prints were quite prominent, which meant a heavier footfall and load. It was also why Sherlock found no sign of a struggle. But would also mean they had incapacitated John in some manner. Sherlock just hoped John wasn’t hurt.

 

John came to with his hands tied behind his back and his feet tied to the legs of a backless stool. He was slumped forward. As he straightened his back cracked and his shoulder ached, letting him know he’d been out for longer than a couple of minutes. He looked around in the dark but couldn’t see much. Light glinted off some steel in the corner and he tried to make out what it was.

There was a noise, faint but insistent, it was familiar but he just couldn’t get his mind to work properly. He exhaled loudly trying to get himself together.

“He-hello?” a shaky male voice called out quietly. The silence was punctuated by the sound that John couldn’t place.

“You awake man?”

Wheezing! The noise was the sound of someone wheezing. John called out, “Yes, yes. Where are we? Are you okay?”

“Shh! We don’t want him to come back. And I don’t know where we are. There were 3 of us, then 2, and then just me. Now you’re here. I don’t know rather I should be hopeful or give up.”

“I am actually here to investigate the disappearing.”

“And look where you are.”

“I’m not alone mate. My partner will find us.”

“I certainly hope so. I’m Gary, my wife and I came over from the states. She’ll probably definitely want a divorce after this, thinking I ran off with someone.”

“My name's John. What’s your wife look like? I spoke to a woman right before getting knocked out who said her husband had gone missing and she thought he’d either shacked up with swingers or left without her.”

“Well, she’s beautiful man, tall, dark chocolate complexion, medium length locks.”

John frowned, “That’s not the woman I spoke to, she was petite, olive complexion short dark hair. Pretty enough, an amazing voice.”

“Hey, that sounds like the chick I gave my number to maybe an hour before I was attacked.”

“Maybe she marks us and then we get snatched.” John contemplated out loud. “Under what pretense did you give her your number?”

There was a telling silence before the man answered, “To hook up.”

“And you told her as much?”

“Yes. She hit on me and I accepted.”

“I gave her my number but I told her if she felt threatened or anything, that I was a doctor and an ex-soldier. She laughed. She probably thought I was hitting on her.”

John was quiet for several minutes. “You said that at one point there was three of you here, were any of them women?”

“Nope.”

“Well, what brought us here was a missing couple. We didn’t know at the time there were more disappearances. I wonder what did they do with the women?”

“I don’t know man, but I’m more worried about what they’re going to do with us.”

“Yeah I know, but we also need to know what their game is, why they’re kidnapping people and what they’re doing with them. It’s the only way to stop them.”

“I know man, but still, I can’t help but be worried about my own ass right now.”

“What about your wife?”

“What about her? She’s out there somewhere. Free.”

“Yeah, but I can’t help but be worried about Sher- about my wife Sherly. How do I know she’s okay?”

 

Sherlock followed the footprints to a door, he noted the door and then followed the prints to another door several feet down. He could vaguely make out footprints moving away from this door, so he believed John had to be behind this door.

Sherlock looked up and down the hall, he didn’t see anyone and in fact, the hallway had been deserted for his entire search. Quickly Sherlock took out his lock picks, he was glad no one was around to witness this because he had stored them in his fake bosom. Working the door open quickly he stole away inside, it was dark inside, and from the brief light from the hallway, he could see it was some sort of storage room. 

Sherlock flicked on the lights. He was both disappointed and elated at once. The room held two cages with thin blankets at the bottom. There was a desk against one wall. He went first to the desk, there were papers strewn all over the surface he sat down quickly shuffling through the mess. Bingo. He quickly stuffed several sheets of paper down his shirt.

“A-are you here to help me?”

And here laid his disappointment. The person in the cage was not John. It was a woman. She had been laying down when he entered, but he knew the moment he freed her, his window to discover anything useful would close. 

“Please...help me miss.”

“Yes, yes of course. Were you the only one here? How long have you been here? What’s your name?”

“K-Kimberly, Kim. I think several days. And no, but there use to be other women.”

“All right, I’m going to get you out of here. But it’s important that once we leave this room you stay very quiet when you get off the compound, find a cop or someone. Talk to no one on the compound and don’t look for your husband. Understand?”

The woman nodded her head rapidly, her dark hair flying all over the place. She backed away from the cage door as Sherlock began trying to pick the lock. It took him a little longer than he would’ve liked and he began to get nervous. He needed to direct this woman to the exit but he also wanted to check the other room he had passed, John had to be in there.

Popping the cage door open he took the woman’s hand, “There is another room like this, I need to check it to see if my husband is being held there, okay?”

The woman nodded her head and when they stepped out into the hall she squeezed Sherlock’s hand and placed her other on his forearm.

Reaching the other door Sherlock was surprised to find this door already unlocked. Pushing in quietly he turned on a light. The room was empty, the only things here was another two cages, both empty, a small table and a backless stool with ropes on the floor. Sighing Sherlock quickly backtracked to the door, sticking his head out to make sure the coast was clear. The two of them exited the small storage room and made their way back to the guest wing. Sherlock couldn't believe they hadn’t passed not one employee.

Reaching the guest wing where the carpet ended and the tile began, Sherlock began to hear sounds of life. Maybe he should take her to their room first and call Lestrade to send someone to get her. Yes, that was the best course of action he didn’t want her to be recaptured before getting out of here. “Listen, Kimberly, I am going to take you back to my room and call a D.I. friend of mine. I’ll have him come get you right away. But we need to look as normal as possible until we get to my room. Okay?”

“Okay. I'm sorry your husband wasn’t there.”

Sherlock didn’t respond. He took her arm and they walked as if they were just two people having a stroll. Sherlock pulled out his room key when they reached the suite, once open he quickly pushed Kimberly inside.

A high pitched squeal came from behind him, Sherlock turned ready to fight, the woman Kimberly was engaged in a tight embrace with a man Sherlock had never seen before. The door to the site’s bathroom opened, “What on earth…”

It was John. “John? What- how are you here? I thought you had gotten kidnapped?”

“I did. I managed to free myself and this gentleman, Gary, he’s American.”

“And this is Kimberly, I am guessing his wife. She was locked up in a room several doors down from where I am assuming you were being held.”

Sherlock and John kept their distance from one another, staring. Sherlock tossed him his phone. “You dropped this.”

“Thanks.”

 

“You two aren’t really married are you?” This was asked by the man.

“No,” John answered.

“You should be.” Kimberly added, “It’s written all over your faces how much you mean to each other.”

 

Sherlock cleared his throat, “I'll call Lestrade.”

Sherlock walked to a corner of the room, putting as much space between himself and the other occupants. Turning his back on the room he dialed Lestrade, Sherlock hoped he answered. Lestrade was recently divorced and was working way too many hours and sleeping in between. Sherlock personally thought Lestrade was better off now, besides it had been several months, he should be moving on with his life.

There was no answer. He tried again.

“This better be important you bloody bastard, I'm on a date.”

 _Oh._ “It is. Remember the case I told you about? The missing couple?”

“Yeah, you were going undercover.”

“Right. Well, it turns out it’s missing _couples, not just one_. John and I found and freed a couple, I was hoping you could come pick them up, it needs to be discreet.”

Lestrade groaned, “Fine. But if I don’t get another date I'm blaming you.”

“Bring her with you so she sees what a hero you are.”

“Maybe. See you in a few.”

 

Sherlock turned around to find John just finishing the changing of the sheets on the bed. The room had a spare pair in the bathroom closet. He watched as the couple climbed on the bed, Gary holding his wife to him, running a hand through her locks. And John watched them as well. How thoughtful of John to change the sheets and allow them to lay down. Would he have thought of that had he not been on the phone with Lestrade? He doubted it. John was much better with people than he was.

Sherlock looked at John watching the couple. He was sitting in one of the big comfy chairs. He was in obvious pain but he ignored it while he watched the couple with visible longing. John had had it tough. Tough childhood, tough time in the military, tough marriage to a lying assassin. And tough friendship with a sociopath who got his kicks proving he was smarter and better than everyone else. John needed a break. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if some had kidnapped him thinking he was John’s wife, at least then John would have some hope for a normal life.

 

John dozed on the chair, fully aware of Sherlock staring at him before falling asleep.

Roughly an hour later Sherlock roused him from his sleep. “John, Lestrade is here, we need to escort the couple outside.”

John jumped up instantly alert. Kimberly and Gary were standing by the door, hands clasped.

“Gary, would you know the man who took you if you saw him again?” John asked when he reached the couple.

“You bet your ass I would. Hard to forget him, big guy, and I mean big. Tall and thick like a tree.”

“Great, well keep your eyes peeled, hmm?”

 

Sherlock opened the door for everyone closing and locking it behind them. He took John’s arm and fixed a smile on his face. “Try to blend in, look happy and in love. Like we are all just going for a stroll.” He noticed John grit his teeth before also giving a smile. To Sherlock, he could see the smile was fake and strained around the edges but he had known John for quite some time now and he doubted anyone else would be able to tell.

They made it to the front gate without incident, there was a car sitting there, Lestrade he presumed. As they approached the car Sherlock frowned walking out ahead of the group. “Molly?”

“Hi, Sherlock.”

Lestrade was out of the car and looking at Sherlock over the hood, he shrugged.

“You’re on a date with Molly Hooper?”

“Problem?” Molly asked, tone going defensive.

“No, not at all. I always thought you two would make a fine couple.”

John strolled up next to Sherlock.

“As do you two,” Molly said quietly.

“Good evening Molly, Greg. This is Gary and Kimberly Thompson. Please get them back home safe and sound. We can send them their stuff once we get to the bottom of all this.”

Greg raised his brow at John, he normally let Sherlock take pointon the cases.

“Well, he is the man of the relationship,” Sherlock responded with a smirk.

“I’ll be in touch. You two be careful.” Lestrade climbed back in the vehicle and Molly waved at them before they pulled off.

  
Sherlock and John walked slowly back to the compound.


	7. Chapter 7

Back in the room, Sherlock started pulling out his fancier, flashier clothes.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?”

“We need to be seen. See if anyone reacts to you being out.”

“So we’re going to the dance tonight? That midnight ball thing?”

“Yup.” Sherlock noticed John wasn’t looking at him as he spoke, he was looking down at the floor near Sherlock. “John, hopefully, we’ll have this wrapped up tonight and we can go back to Baker Street where everything will be back as it was.”

 

John ran a hand through his hair roughly, he seriously doubted things would or could go back to the way it was. They had crossed a line and Sherlock was trying earnestly to tiptoe back across it. John didn’t have such luxury, the feel of Sherlock would be forever emblazoned upon his body, he would have no peace.

He walked over to his own bag and pulled out the fancy slacks and shirt that Sherlock had chosen for him, they were really sharp, very nice. Too bad they weren’t dressing up to go dancing under different circumstances. John sat down and placed his clothes on the chair opposite him. Laying his head back against the chair he closed his eyes, he could probably catch an hour and a half before they had to begin getting ready. He knew Sherlock wouldn’t want to be the first ones there.

 

“John, take the bed, I won’t bother you.”

“I'm fine,” John mumbled.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re hurting.”

John opened one eye peeking at Sherlock, he was standing there looking silly and beautiful in his fitted slacks, shirt open exposing his stuffed black brassiere, with his lock pick kit hanging out of one cup completing the odd scene, and in spite of the bizarre nature of it all, it was still very Sherlock Holmes.

And John had to open both eyes to appreciate it all. He wished he could hate Sherlock with his logical conclusions and robotic reasonings, but he couldn’t. It all served to make up who he was and added to the long list of why John loved him.

John knew this was Sherlock’s olive branch, even though they had been planning on sharing the bed, which meant John had just as much right to the bed as did Sherlock. Instead of pointing this out, John stiffly got to his feet, shed his jacket and shoes and climbed on the bed. Turning on his side he gave Sherlock his back. He needed to clear his head and looking at Sherlock wasn’t going to do it.

 

Sherlock turned back to the task at hand, getting out of his confining bra. Sherlock slipped into the sweats he was going to put on earlier and snagged a t-shirt from John’s bag. He didn’t tend to pack any on away trips, he wasn’t even entirely sure how the sweats ended up in his bag.

 

Sherlock sat in the abandoned chair and thought about the current case. Who would stand to gain anything from kidnapping couples? Sherlock couldn’t seem to concentrate, his gaze kept being drawn to the prone form on the bed. He tried his best to focus on the case, but when he heard John’s breathing deepen he crept over to the bed and laid down beside his blogger.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed, finally able to focus he came to the conclusion that this was not an inside job. This was the work of someone who worked for the company, using the resort as a cover to target semi to well-off couples. But how did they choose their victims? And what happened to the ones that aren’t heard from again? Did they kill the ones that couldn’t or wouldn’t pay?

“They use infidelity to choose the couples.”

Sherlock opened his eyes, John’s back was still to him but he could see his breathing had changed again. “How?”

“There’s a couple. The woman hits on the man if he accepts or in some cases, if he seems to hit on her he is marked somehow and kidnapped. Gary said the woman hit on him and he gave her his number. I gave her my number, but because I thought she was one of the victims.”

“Interesting. I’ll keep an eye out for her at the party. She and I should have a bit of girl talk.”

“You remember what she looks like? Course you do, why am I even asking? Why you would notice her anyways is beyond me.”

“I didn’t like the look of her, she looked suspicious.”  
John rolled over to face Sherlock, nearly bumping into him in the process.

“Suspicious? No, she didn’t. Unless by suspicious you mean she was talking to me?”

“What? Don’t be silly, why would I be jealous?”

“I never said that you were.”

“No, but you implied it.”

“Why would a nice looking woman be interested in a sod like me? Is that it?”

“Course not.” Quietly Sherlock added, “I’m surprised more women haven’t come on to you while in my company.”

“We are at a bloody couples retreat, why would anyone come on to me?”

“It is a proven fact that when a person appears unattainable that is when more people feel the need to attain them. You’re a striking man, with a less than beautiful wife, plenty of women will think it their social obligation to save you from such a plight.”

John pointed a finger in Sherlock’s face, he was angry and his voice was low as he tried to make his point. “That’s my choice. I for one think you, Sherlock Holmes, are one of the most beautiful people I have ever had the misfortune of laying my eyes on. If I chose you, it is those other women's social obligation to respect that.”

Sherlock was stunned into a momentary silence, John thought him beautiful and didn’t want the attentions of other women. Scratch that, of women or anyone.

“I-I mean if our marriage was real and what not. Those women-” His words were halted by Sherlock's lips against his.

 

Sherlock carded his fingers through John’s short hair, holding his fumbling fool to him. But really he was the fool, not John.  
The kiss was very hot and needy, Sherlock wanted to tell John he was a bloody idiot and he loved him too. That he wanted to explore this between them, but he didn’t have the words, so he kissed him instead. Slowing down the urgency in his kiss, wanting to relish every breath, moan and touch from John. Sherlock angled his head for better access, he ran his tongue slowly across John’s bottom lip, nipping lightly when John parted his lips.

John sighed into Sherlock’s mouth. He wished Sherlock would stop with these games. He would never have pegged him as being particularly randy which only left the explanation that Sherlock was playing a game. Sherlock moved closer and John could feel Sherlock's arousal. Okay, maybe something about this place or situation just got his blood pumping.  
With great effort, John pulled away from Sherlock breaking the kiss that was threatening to lead to places best left unexplored.

“John,” Sherlock whispered breathlessly.

John was just as out of breath as Sherlock and he took a moment to collect his thoughts. “Sherlock, we can’t.” After a pause, John amended with, “I can’t.”

 

Sherlock opened his eyes, he heard a tremble in John’s voice and it concerned him. Stroking a hand down the exposed side of John’s face, Sherlock pressed a quick kiss to the shorter man’s lips. “I was wrong John. I thought...when you were taken, for that short period of time all I could think was, please don't let it end like this.” Sherlock took a deep breath before pushing on, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier and how I treated you.”  
John sat up abruptly, he couldn’t do this right now. He swung around so his feet were firmly on the floor and his back was to Sherlock. What was he on about now? He’d already made it clear that he didn’t want John in that way.

Sherlock sat up, pulling his knees beneath him he placed his hands tentatively on John’s shoulders. “John, I know it’s all rather cliche, the threat of losing you bringing me to my senses. I don’t want to lose you.”  
There was silence for several long minutes.  
“And if that is true, how are you feeling about that Sherlock?”  
“It makes me giddy and fearful and so many other conflicting emotions, but mostly I feel lucky.”  
“What about what you said earlier?”  
“Forget earlier, I’m an idiot.”

John turned, pulling one leg up, resting his elbow on it.  
Sherlock scooted back a couple of inches to accommodate John's new position. He was nervous, he had no clue what was going through John’s head, this was a first, more or less. John gave him nothing to go on, no facial ticks, funny faces, teeth gritting, heavy breathing, or balling of the fist. None of the usual tells to his emotional state.  
“John…”  
John held up his hand halting Sherlock’s words.  
“What do I want from you, Sherlock? What was it that you couldn’t do?”  
“A relationship. A normal-”  
“I’ll stop you there. Neither of us is normal, I would never expect anything so boring as normal from you. All I want is you, completely and sincerely. I would love to make love to you every night and wake up to you every morning. I would love to look at you and know you are mine, that I snagged the great Sherlock Holmes. I would love to grow old with you Sherlock.”  
Sherlock looked down at his lap, he realized he was twisting his shirt into knots with anxiety. He looked up at John through his curls, “Okay.”  
John smiled, laying back on the bed, “Come here, you idiot.”  
Sherlock let go of the breath he was holding and allowed himself to be pulled into John’s arms. Again tears threatened to spill, was it something about John’s arms that made him weepy?

Sniffling Sherlock said, “I was thinking John, I would like to be the first couple there. That way I can watch everyone's expression as they come in.”  
“Makes sense. We better start getting ready.”

Sherlock sat up to look at John. “What? Why? We still have an hour and a half before we should arrive.”

“Yes, but even dressing as a man could take you hours to get ready. As a woman, twice as long and we don’t have the time.”

Sherlock pouted and looked away, “I like to look nice.”

“And you look great, _effortlessly_.” John cupped Sherlock’s face as he spoke. “But I understand, go get ready, I know it will be well worth it in the the end.”

Sherlock kissed John quickly on the cheek and scrambled off the bed. He couldn’t believe he was now free to kiss John whenever the urge hit. He was almost certain he would be kissing John quite often.

John chuckled watching Sherlock scamper off to get ready.

An hour and fifteen minutes later both men were showered and dressed heading to the ballroom hand in hand.  
John could admit he gawked at Sherlock upon seeing the final outcome of his midnight ball transformation. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the dress when it was being packed, but seeing the form fitting aubergine number on Sherlock made his mouth both water and feel dry simultaneously. There was a split on both sides of the dress that ran pretty high up. When he asked Sherlock how he was going to keep from flashing everybody Sherlock only smiled and said a woman never tells her beauty secrets.

 

As desired Sherlock and John were the first in the ballroom. He dragged John to the wall, dead front of the entrance and coincidentally behind the beverage table.

“This is more like a company Christmas party than a ball.”

“Sherlock…”

“Sherly darling.” Sherlock turned and kissed John slowly. Pulling away he smiled. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to being able to do that.”

John pulled Sherlock against him and squeezed his arse. “You look fantastic Sher, and I-”

“I hear people coming. From where we are they can’t help but see us and once the room begins to fill up everyone will have to pass by the beverage table.” Sherlock moved so that he was leaned casually against the wall, John taking his lead came in close, placing a hand on Sherlock’s waist and the other took his hand.

“Pretend to be saying something flirty or something.” Sherlock instructed as he kept an eye on the door.”

Keeping his voice low John purred, “I can do better than that.” Sherlock frowned casting a quick quizzical look at John before turning his gaze back on the entryway.

“I would like nothing more than to take you back to the room and peel this hot little number from your body.” A group of people walked in all chattering animatedly. John smiled as he saw a blush creep up over Sherlock's face. He continued, “Kissing every creamy white inch of your body as I go.”

John’s words were making it hard to concentrate but he didn't have to wait long before the woman who had been hitting on John came through. Sherlock was smiling lightly and he was sure he was as red as fake movie blood. When he saw her eyes sweeping the room he started to bat his eyes, hopefully hiding the fact that he was looking at her. John continued to feed the fire with his words, Sherlock was sure his blush was even more prominent now, even in this dull light. Sherlock let out a small squeak of surprise as John placed a kiss against the rapidly beating pulse at his neck.

The squeak got the woman’s attention and she turned to look in their direction, frowning as she did. Sherlock had both hands cradling John’s head and he imagined she couldn’t tell it was John, especially if she thought John was locked away.

“John she is headed this way, the woman you were speaking to earlier this evening.” Sherlock closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of John kissing along his neck and earlobe. The woman would make it to them shortly.

 

“Um, excuse me, ma’am, I hate to interrupt, but I was looking for your husba-” The woman’s words were cut short when John turned around and treated her with a smile.

“My apologies madam, I just can’t seem to help myself, my wife and I had a row earlier and just making it up to her. Do I- do I know you?”

Sherlock had to turn his face to keep his smile from showing. John was pretending not to remember the woman, perhaps to prove to the woman he wasn't hitting on her earlier and wasn’t in the least bit interested.

“We met earlier before supper.”

“Ah yes, yes. Did your husband turn up?”

“No, I’m afraid not, I came here to see if I'll find him here, though, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, not really my style, but whatever my love wants, my love gets. Speaking of, I’ve forgotten my manners, sweetheart this is the woman you saw me speaking to earlier, the one I told you about,” turning back to the woman he asked, “What’s your name? Sorry.”

“Amanda.”

John smiled warmly at her, “Amanda I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Sherly. Sherly meet Amanda.”

Sherlock stepped around John and took both of Amanda’s hands in his, “So nice to meet you finally. John has been going on about how your husband just left you here. He was very upset at how a man could just do that. And then later I met another woman who thought her husband had done the same thing. Turned out he was still here just tied up a bit.” Sherlock watched the woman's face for any sort of tell that she knew what he was really talking about.

“Yes it was very odd really,” John added, “I ran into her husband and he said he knew his wife was probably thinking the worst of him and he felt very sorry that he had given his number to some woman and all he really wanted was to get back to his wife. Seeing them make up was very touching and I hope they work through their differences. Seeing them work at it prompted us,” John looked up and Sherlock, his heart purposely in his eyes, “to make up and get over our differences and to really try to make this work.”

“Oh John, she doesn’t want to hear this.”

“Why not? It is a retreat to help couples find that spark again, just offering a bit of advice.”

“But she still doesn't know where her husband is, poor thing.” Sherlock squeezed Amanda’s hand and gave her a sympathetic smile.

“It’s quite alright, I should get back to looking for him, though. Thanks and I’m very glad you too made up.”

 

Sherlock allowed Amanda to pull her hands free and as she was walking away Sherlock bent his head giving John a quick kiss. “She'll be back, probably under the guise of asking for help.”

John leaned against the wall pulling Sherlock in front of him and wrapped his arms around him. “This way we both can watch.”  
“So practical. Look-”

“I see them, Sherlock.” John placed a kiss on the side of Sherlock's arm as he watched two men stop Amanda. She looked surprised. Words were exchanged and, she looked back over her shoulder at them, there seemed to be a hint of anger there. The two men looked at them as well then turned and left in different directions.

“Here it comes, John. We are not to split up under and circumstances.”  
Sherlock kept a pleasant but fake smile glued to his face as Amanda approached them again looking both sad and apologetic.

“Sorry to bother you two again. Two of the staff told me they saw my husband back in the gardens. That he refused to speak to them and he seemed intoxicated.”

“That’s great!” Sherlock beamed at her.

“Yeah, but I was wondering John if I could cash in on your expertise in the military and ask you to accompany me to go find him.” Before John could respond she rushed on to say, “Sherly we won’t be long, I promise. No need for you to leave the party.”

“Nonsense. I’ll come along too.”

“Really I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Honey, you think I’m letting my husband run off in the dark with a beautiful woman? Nope. I’m coming too.”

“Very well, thank you. And just so you know, I don’t believe you have anything to worry about. I am off to find my husband and John is clearly besotted with you, it’s almost like it’s a new relationship. You two are very lucky.”

“That I am,” John responded smiling up at Sherlock.

“Come along darling, let’s go help out Amanda, the sooner we get her reunited with her husband the sooner we can retire.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock linked his arm through John’s and dragged him along behind Amanda, following her out of the ballroom and into the hallway. 

John shot Sherlock a concerned look. They hadn’t discussed a plan beyond don’t get split up. He sure hoped he had more of a plan than that, it wasn’t unlike Sherlock to go into a situation by the seat of his pants.

 

Once they were back in the garden John and Sherlock both openly looked around looking for the two men from the ball, Amanda would probably think they were searching for her fake missing husband.

“Amanda, where is he then, hmm?” John asked trying to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

Amanda looked around the garden and then walked over to Sherlock and John looking both sheepish and contrite. John dropped Sherlock’s hand.

“What an odd gesture John, your military training is showing; are you feeling threatened? I assure you, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Then why lure us to the dark, abandoned gardens?” Sherlock asked.

“Babe…” John warned staying in character as he stepped in front of Sherlock. “What’s going on Amanda, why  _ did  _ you call us out here?”

“She only wanted you out here remember love, she was pretty adamant about it.”

“Sher-”

“John.” Sherlock shot back cutting off John.

“Maybe you too should be here at the resort for real.”

“What do you mean for  _ real _ ?” Sherlock questioned. 

John licked his lips nervously before offering his own reply. “We are here,  just as you, and very much real.”

“Don’t play coy Mr. Williams, it doesn’t suit you.”

“He’s not playing dear.”

The woman looked up at Sherlock and then started to reach inside her jacket. John reached out a hand to her, he felt an idiot for just now realizing she wasn’t dressed properly for a ‘ball’. “Stop, stop right there. Please remove your hand from your jacket madam.” John requested lowly. 

“It’s not a weapon Mr. Williams, I just want to show you my badge.”

Sherlock tapped John lightly in the middle of his back.

“Slowly then.”

Amanda raised her left hand and with her right slowly pulled out a small black wallet. She flicked it open and showed them a badge. John reached for it to get a better look. Sherlock had enough fake badges for him to know he needed to check it's authenticity.

Amanda let him take it, he held it up high under the pretense of getting better lighting but really he just wanted Sherlock to be able to see it, he was much better at spotting a fake. Sherlock tapped him again. He passed it back to the woman. 

 

“Alright then  _ Agent _ . You work for Interpol, are you on a case or is your husband really missing?”

“On a case John, but what agency are you two with? Dedicated to your work I see.”

“We’re more in the private sector,” Sherlock responded.

“And are you really a couple or just playing one?”

John smiled back at Sherlock who was staring at Amanda stone-faced. “We are really a couple.”

“John, can I speak to you a moment?” Sherlock asked sweetly.

 

“What’s wrong Sherlock?” John asked once they were several feet away from Amanda.

“I don’t know yet, but I’m not buying it.”

“You signalled that the badge was real. I don’t understand.”

“Oh, I do envy your naivety sometimes John. Just because she is a government agent, doesn’t mean that she is a good guy. Admittedly I can’t put my finger on it yet, but something doesn’t feel right. Mind if I blow our cover, even more, love?”

John smiled at the endearment. “No, not at all.”

Sherlock kissed John quickly on the lips and then turned and strode over to the agent, his feminine sexy walk forgotten, and back was his typical aggressive stalking, it was just as sexy if you asked John. 

 

“Agent Amanda Steadmoor, do you know who I am?” Sherlock had dropped his fake female voice and Amanda was frowning at him. 

“Um, no. Should I?”

“I'm Sherlock Holmes, I am sure you’ve heard of me.”

John watched in amusement as Amanda stammered, she was obviously a fan.

“Of course I’ve heard of you, who hasn’t? I thought John looked familiar, but I most certainly didn’t think he was  _ your _ John.”

“Course you didn't, that's because you thought you were so clever, didn't you?”

“Sorry? I’m not sure that I follow.”

“Sherlock,” John said both in way of a warning and a question.

“Where are your partners Agent Steadmoor? To be undercover at a couples retreat you need at least one man to pose as your husband, so tell me, Amanda, where is Mister Amanda Steadmoor?”

Amanda just glared at Sherlock, her cool and friendly demeanour gone. 

John stepped forward not liking the sudden change in the agent. “And why didn’t you seem happy to see me at the party? Oh, and why did you try and get me here alone?”

“Because! I thought you were working for another agency and was really here on your time off, I didn’t want to involve your  _ wife. _ But I wanted to warn you off  _ my  _ case!”

“That isn’t very altruistic of you. You should only want to bring down the people doing this, not be worried about your own betterment. Unless that is your sole purpose of being here in the first place.” Sherlock baited. He still wasn’t a hundred percent sure if she was behind the disappearances but he could tell she wasn’t being exactly upfront with them either.

“And now? Now that you know we don’t work for any government agency but was hired by one of the missing parties family, do you still want us away from  _ your _ case? Or would you accept our help?” John tried.

“Your help is not needed, Dr. Watson.”

“And what of Sherlock? I hear he’s right good and even Interpol uses him time to time.” John tried to ease the tension with a light joke.

“I don’t have clearance to bring either of you in. And again, I don’t need help.”

 

John and Sherlock exchanged a look, it didn’t mean anything, at least John didn’t think it did, it was just a look they often did to make a suspect think they knew more than they were letting on. 

John took Sherlock’s hand in his, “Well then, good evening, and I trust you to keep our secret?”

John didn’t wait for an answer, he turned and pulled Sherlock along. 

“Wait, Dr. Watson one question before your go.”

John stopped walking, continuing to give the woman his back whereas Sherlock turned slightly so he could watch her body language.

“How did you get away?”

Sherlock turned back looking down at John mouthing  _ "Bingo!” _

John turned around to face Agent Steadmoor, “Excuse me?”

“My men reported that you were taken but they couldn’t see where you had been taken to. When I saw you at the ball I thought for sure they must’ve been mistaken, but my men are well trained and they verified you were indeed the man they saw get snatched.”

John couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. “And your men just let me get taken, not knowing what would happen to me?” He knew Sherlock still suspected she was the culprit but if she wasn’t how dare she and her men allow someone to be kidnapped for the sake of the case, he was sure her answer would be similar to one that Sherlock would give.

“Their orders were to follow the man to see where you were being taken. He lost you somewhere.”

“And no one else saw a huge man carrying an unconscious man through the hallways?” John was almost whispering, Sherlock put a calming hand on his shoulder. 

“The man was wearing a BASIC uniform. No one would’ve thought to question him.”

“Yes but medical personnel do  _ not _ transport people in  _ that  _ manner.” 

 

Sherlock wrapped his arm around John’s shoulder and lead him from the gardens. “Guard up.” He whispered. They hadn’t seen the other two “agents” and he was sure they were around, maybe waiting for a clear shot. Lucky for them there were people walking about. 

Sherlock let go of John, if they would have to fight their way out of here or even shoot their way out, they needed their hands free. 

They made it from the gardens to the wing that housed their room. There were fewer people here, and perfect for an ambush. Without warning, John pushed him to the ground and pulled out his gun. Somewhere in the background, a woman screamed. It took Sherlock an embarrassingly long moment to realize someone was shooting at them and John was providing as much cover as he could, he had pushed Sherlock out of sight behind the wall and was returning fire. He wasn’t sure if John had brought extra ammunition. Were they safe here? Maybe they should try to make it back down the hall, away from the other people at least. Sherlock trusted John to keep them safe. 

“It’s the men that was speaking to Agent Steadmoor. I guess she’s our man after all.” John whispered breathlessly. “But why tip her hand like this?” 

As John was quickly reloading they heard another voice, “Put the gun down Agent Royce.” It was Amanda, what on earth was going on? Both Sherlock and John looked carefully around the corner in time to see Agent Royce shoot at Agent Amanda Steadmoor. She ducked down and bounced right back up to return fire of her own. She got off two quick shots and the sound of the man crying out and falling signalled the end of the shootout. John peeked out again, he Sherlock had retreated when the shooting had started again. 

He saw the other man take off at a dead run he jumped up to pursue him when Agent Steadmoor called out to him. “Dr. Watson, I have backup waiting outside, he won't get far.”

John went over to the downed agent, his gun still drawn and pointed down at the floor. He was aware of Sherlock joining him but he concentrated on the man on the ground. He kicked the discarded gun away and Sherlock quickly snatched it up. John saw that the man was breathing shallowly, his breaths quick and labored, there was already blood pooling around the man. Dropping to his knees to administer first-aid he saw that Amanda had shot the man through the heart the agent's eyes had already started to go soft and unfocused. “Dammit,” he swore quietly. 

 

Sherlock dropped to his knees next to John and took the agent's hand. “Where are the missing couples?” 

“Sherlock, he’s dying.”

“Precisely, we need to know where the missing people are.”

“A-Amanda…” Agent Royce stuttered out.

“What? What was that?”

“Aaaa-amand...sh-shedddd.”

John looked at Sherlock. He didn’t understand.

“Where Agent Royce?”

“St-stttora-aaage. St-sttt-stoppp...Aman-” The light faded from the man’s eyes as his body gave up the fight. 

John looked at the dead man and then stood up helping Sherlock to his feet. Agent Steadmoor was approaching them and he was unable to question Sherlock about the dead man's words. He knew Sherlock and he was sure Sherlock was already trying to decipher the clues. As Amanda reached them she was hanging up her mobile phone. “Yes thank you, sir.” To Sherlock and John, she asked, “Get anything useful from him?”

“Sadly no,” Sherlock answered before John could. Did Sherlock still not trust Amanda? She just shot one of her own agents. “Thanks for the assist.” John offered.

Agent Amanda Steadmoor gave a sad smile. “Wish I hadn't had to. Well, I need to go speak with my superiors outside, you two should get some rest.”

John nodded to her and took Sherlock’s hand and led him towards their room as the paramedics came in with a stretcher and body bag. 

 

Back in their room, John began taking off the confining dress clothes as Sherlock walked around the room checking for surveillance.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?”

Sherlock looked over his shoulder to answer John, when he saw that he was shirtless he pressed his lips together tightly and turned to face John fully; openly taking in and admiring what he was seeing. “Checking for surveillance John.”

John blushed a bit seeing Sherlock’s obvious interest. “Yes, I can see that, but why? It’s over.” 

Sherlock smiled at John and walked over to him. “Is it? Besides they could have bugged the room while we were at the resort’s Christmas party.” John sniggered. Sherlock stepped in close to John running a finger down John’s chest, first letting his finger linger over his old bullet wound. “Besides I don’t want anyone to see or hear the things I plan on doing to you tonight.” 

John swallowed hard. It would take some getting use to, this flirty side of Sherlock. He looked up into Sherlock’s eyes and he gave his own mischievous smile. “Oh really? What if I have my own plans for you?”

“All the better and more incentive to clear the room of any possible bugs.”

“Agreed,” John said quietly before tugging Sherlock’s mouth down to meet his. He kissed him hard, biting his bottom lip to gain access to his mouth. 

Sherlock wrapped his hands around the waist of John’s dress slacks pulling the shorter man closer. John growled into the kiss and Sherlock had to break away, stopping them while they were ahead. “John...John- surveillance first.”

“Right. Sorry.” 

 

John started helping Sherlock methodically search the room for surveillance devices. To their surprise, they didn’t find anything. 

“John, could you help me out my dress?”

“That’s something I never thought to hear you say.” John walked over to Sherlock, sliding the zipper down slowly running two fingers down the middle of Sherlock’s back in the wake of zipper revealing all that smooth creamy skin. John licked his lips as he took in the gentle dip of Sherlock’s back right above his arse. 

When Sherlock let the dress slide to the floor and bent over to collect the dress John felt like he was going to explode with need, his slacks suddenly tight. Sherlock was wearing another pair of silky pants, but these were a mix of barely there lace and leather. Sherlock was wearing a thong!

John couldn’t keep his hand from reaching out and touching, running his hand over one exposed globe down to the top of one stocking. How the hell did Sherlock keep them up without garters?

Sherlock felt like an idiot, his heel had snagged on the dress as he tried stepping out of them, making him have to bend over to untangle his heel and messing up the whole sexy image he was going for. When John ran a hand over his arse he couldn’t contain the shiver that the contact had induced. 

Standing Sherlock turned and walked into John’s arms, rubbing himself against the other man’s front. John was definitely interested. John wrapped his arms around his waist, cupping his arse, zeroing in on his neck and nibbling on the sensitive skin there. Sherlock whispered frantically, “Shower- we should shower…” John bit down slightly harder and was awarded a low moan from Sherlock.

“Why shower when we just plan on getting dirty again?” John murmured against his neck. 

“Sound reasoning John, but I have dried blood on me, as do you. Albeit not much.”

Groaning John pulled Sherlock towards the bathroom, “Well let’s get on with then.”


	9. Chapter 9

Once in the shower, Sherlock methodically began to wash John’s hair, and although he has never had the pleasure of having Sherlock wash his hair or any part of him, he could tell Sherlock was thinking and distracted just by his movements alone.

Sherlock worked the shampoo through John’s hair, making sure to get the streak of blood out. John must have raked a hand through his hair as he was apt to do when frustrated or angry. He found his mind wandering right back to the case once he was no longer kissing John; if John was disappointed he didn't show it. Sherlock was aware that he was lucky to have John, someone who understood and accepted him. He began to wash his own hair after absently shoving John under the water to rinse the shampoo out.

John came from under the spray of water sputtering. “Sherlock, you don’t think it’s over yet do you?”

“No.”

“I mean, I know we still need to locate the missing couples, but beyond that, this case should be done.”

Sherlock had started lathering himself up. “Agent Royce told us where the other couples are. but we have to wait until the morning to look.”

“Why? If they are out there shouldn't we be too?” John was also washing up now. “I mean we don’t know what condition they are in they could be malnourished or-”

“Dead. John, I’m afraid anyone we find will already be dead.”

John was incredulous. “No.”

Sherlock stopped rinsing and pulled John into a hug. “My precious blogger. I don’t believe Agent Steadmoor would leave anyone alive that could identify her or her men. I believe she turned on her men here, in the end, to try and get us off her trail.”

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist. He just couldn’t believe everything had been a waste. “But she is a _woman_.” John argued vehemently, “Women don’t do these sorts of things. Not the planning and the conniving or the killing!”

 

Sherlock simply held John. Even with as many evil and vile cases they worked together John was still appalled and surprised by the evils of people. It amazed him. Gently Sherlock guided John under the spray rinsing his soap suds away.

 

When they were both out the shower and dried Sherlock looked at John as he pulled on a pair of pants. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?”

“Dressed?”

“To go search for the shed and missing couples.”

John smiled sadly. He knew the only reason they were even going to search now was because Sherlock wanted to ease his mind. But John knew not to get his hopes up as he got dressed. Sherlock was rarely wrong about things like this, he must have picked up on something to make him think the couples were dead. He always came across as detached and unaffected but John knew that was just a front. “So, what shed are we looking for?”

“Agent Royce said shed and storage. There must be one on the resort grounds.”

“Am I mistaken or did he also say stop Amanda?”

Sherlock now dressed approached John giving him a quick kiss. “He did. That is the reason I think she turned on them in the end.”

“I don’t understand. So they thought we were the ones behind it and Amanda sent them after us but when she fired at them they realized differently or they were all working together and she pinned it on them in the end?”

“I think it was the latter. In fact, I don’t think that there was anyone outside to take the other man in. Either the two of them had planned for Agent Royce to take the fall the whole time or she shot him too after we left.”

John sat down on the bed to pull his shoes on. When done he buried his face in his hands for a moment. He needed to pull himself together and ready himself for the possibility of finding bodies. He wasn’t squeamish, it was just sometimes seeing bodies, depending on the condition brought back memories of the war. And although it is true, part of him missed the war, he didn’t miss the carnage and loss of life.

Sherlock ran a hand through John's hair, trying to soothe the man. It didn’t take a terrible amount of deducing to figure out his mind was on the war. “I can go alone.” he offered.

John raised his head placing a kiss into Sherlock’s palm. “Nonsense. Let’s go.”

 

In the hall the men realized the resort shut down the midnight ball early in light of the night's events. Despite that, there was still several people milling about the hallways.  There was a detour set up to bypass the area where Agent Royce had been shot so the men had to walked through the kitchen to use a service exit.

It was pitch black out, John pulled a flashlight from his jacket pocket and chuckled as Sherlock pulled one from his bra.

 

The grounds out here were extensive. And if not for the flashlights they would never have found the shed. It was situated on the outskirts of the property. It was almost completely lost in a tangle of broken trees and brush, it was an old run down building and John found himself losing all hope of finding anyone alive. And if there were any survivors they wouldn’t be in any sort of good shape. The nights were cold here and any amount of time spent in the elements would ensure a person would fall ill or worse.

Sherlock squeezed John’s hand before continuing forward to pick out a path to gain access to the shed.

As John made his way to the shed in Sherlock’s wake, trying to pick out the same path so that it was easier to make it through he noticed Sherlock’s actions seemed more hurried. After a couple more steps he heard it too, it sounded like someone moving around in the shed, perhaps trying to be quiet. He rushed forward, hands outstretched to try to protect himself from the branches. He was a doctor, if there was someone in there alive they would need him.

When he reached the shed just behind Sherlock he tried to move past him but Sherlock extended his hand blocking his path. “Sherlock let me by, what's wrong with you?”

“John you don’t need- you’re not needed in there.”

“Sherlock, I’m a bloody doctor, I can handle it.”

 

Sherlock lowered his hand slowly. He knew John could handle the sight, but why should he add to his nightmares unnecessarily.

John cursed when he took in the scene inside the shed. “Christ,” he whispered. “Sherlock…” John sagged against the door. Inside the building there looked to be about 5 to 6 bodies, all in different stages of decay. But because of the cold temperatures of the season, the bodies were virtual untouched save for the signs of rats feeding on the bodies.

“At least we know now what happened to the other man that Agent Steadmoor said would be taken in,” Sherlock spoke mainly to fill the silence.

“Sherlock, this might shock you, but I have a plan.”

 

An hour and a half later John and Sherlock stood outside the shed waiting for Agent Steadmoor. They had bribed the front desk clerk into calling her room and letting them speak to her.

Sherlock squeezed John’s hand once before Amanda broke through the trees. They could hear her approach for several minutes now, she wasn’t even trying to be quiet.

“Okay, I’m here, what’s this about finding the missing couples?”

John huddled more into his jacket, shoving his hands deep into his trousers. “Inside.”

Sherlock had to give it to Amanda, she was very good at keeping her face neutral. Now to see how she reacted once she looked inside. He watched with interest as she walked to the shed looking inside.

Turning back to face the two men she asked, “How did you two come about this place? Must’ve been some impressive detective work.”

Again John did the talking. “No, not really. Your old partner told us.”

Sherlock would’ve sworn Amanda went pale at that.

“Which partner would that be?”

“Agent Royce of course. Your other partner was taken into custody, or so you say.”

Sherlock continued to watch her and the dynamics of the conversation between her and John play out.

She took a step closer to them, her own hands in her pockets. “Was this exactly how you found the shed?”

“Yes.”

“And what else did Agent Royce tell you?”

“That you were behind the couples going missing and that we should stop you.”

Agent Steadmoor gave a humorless laugh, “Is that right?”

Sherlock finally spoke up, “What’s so funny Amanda?” he made a move to remove his hands from his coat pockets.

Amanda quickly pulled a gun from her pocket pointing it at the men. “No you don’t Mr. Holmes, either of you move and I will be forced to shoot.”

“Under what pretense?”

“You two are responsible for the deaths of these two couples.”

Outraged John yelled, “No one is going to believe that! He’s Sherlock Holmes! He takes out criminals like you every day.”

“Matters not, I am a government agent, we have plenty of people who saw you shooting at my man. They have no way of knowing you were defending yourself.”

“His brother is in the highest levels of the government, he’ll be able to clear the charges.”

“You don’t get it yet do you, John? You two aren’t leaving here alive. The moment Sherlock introduced himself I knew I would have to do this, I would have to kill the great Sherlock Holmes and no one would even understand the why.”

John went to speak again but Sherlock placed a hand on his forearm silencing his argument.

“So are you confessing to a police officer not only our imminent murder but the murders of these couples as well?”

Amanda laughed. “Do you know what your biggest fault and your downfall is? That you always think you are so clever. Even if you had the foresight to plant a recording device somewhere on your person or in the shed, I will have plenty of time to find it before the police arrive. At the risk of being cliche, yes! Yes, I killed these people. Yes, I killed my partners. Yes! I will kill you two, and I would have killed the couple you let go. They were lucky. After you two are dealt with I will take my money and disappear.”

John furious with the loss of life started towards Amanda, she cocked her gun, “Don’t rush this John, I was going to let you tell Sherlock goodbye, all proper like, it’s more than I gave the other couples.”

 

John was aware he was shaking with anger. “Why?” he hissed at the monster in front of him.

“Why not? These men were despicable, cheating on their women and the women knew, taking them back time after time and most even paid the ransom to release these pigs.”

“But why? That was their call, not yours.”

Sherlock interrupted with a bit of logic. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but there is no way these two couples and the one that got away paid you enough to disappear. There were more murders weren’t there?”

 

Amanda smiled at them, “Still trying to play the clever policeman?”

From behind Amanda came a voice, “No need for him to play a policeman when there is one here, and I've heard your confession.”

Amanda fired a shot into that thicket of trees causing Lestrade to have to duck out of the line of fire. She was turning her gun on Sherlock when John brought his hand down hard on her forearm causing her to drop the gun. She swung at John with a closed fist and Sherlock shoved her hard away from John. “I didn’t need to be clever this time Agent Steadmoor, this was John’s plan.”

 

Lestrade came through the trees grabbing Amanda by the wrist before she could lash out again, securing her with handcuffs. Molly popped out of the woods a moment later, “Is it clear?”

“Molly?” Sherlock asked slightly out of breath.

“Hello, I was with Lestrade when you called.”

“But it’s after what, 3 in the morning?”

“Sherlock…” John said softly.

“Oh.”

“This isn’t the time nor the place for this Sherlock.” Lestrade chided.

“Course. John and I will go retrieve the other agent’s body.”


	10. Epilogue

"It turned out Agent Amanda Steadmoor wasn’t who she said she was. Her name was actually Allison Jefferies, twin sister to Agent Amanda Steadmoor. Steadmoor had been killed by her abusive husband. 

Allison had become increasingly worried when her sister didn’t return any of her calls or show up for their weekly girl's day, so she swung by her sister’s place, letting herself in with a key her sister had given her for emergencies. What she found, unfortunately, was her sister’s body tossed in an upstairs bathroom. Allison waited for her brother-in-law to come home when he arrived, Allison confronted him about her sister's death.  Apparently, he told her that it had been an accident, they had argued, he hit her and she struck her head on the corner of a table. Furthermore, a genius, this one, he told her that she could simply pose as Amanda and no one would ever know; and it that Allison had been the one he really wanted all these years. "

"Christ, what did she do, never mind, I guess it's obvious what she did."

"You think so? Well, Alison pretended to accept his plan and several days later after completing her transformation into Amanda, she shows up and she pulled a gun out on her brother-in-law. Allison states he promised her money, loads of it, he said his family was well off and would pay anything to get him back safe and sound.

Sadly, something in Allison snapped the day she found her sister's body and it only served to fuel her obsession with couples who had fidelity issues. Her brother-in-law gave her the idea of taking couples hostage for a ransom. 

Allison had been at the game for roughly  _ a _ year and a half before getting assigned, still in the guise of her deceased sister, to the resort for another case. Somehow her partners found out about her scheme, and Allison gave both of the men a taste of the money they could have if they helped her. It wasn't until the night before Allison killed them that they realized she was actually killing the couples as opposed to letting them go as they previously thought. 

Agent Royce confronted her about the dead couples, he told her he wanted out and more money to keep quiet about the whole thing. Allison fed him a story about you and I being the responsible parties for the couple's deaths, which is why they shot at us.”

“But why tell us to stop her and tell us where the bodies were?”

“I can only guess that he was trying to make it right. That was what Allison claimed anyways down at the station, that she came out to confront us out by the shed.”

“Make it right how, by killing us? How does that work?”

“It doesn’t. Allison tried to claim that Amanda was out there meeting with us and we were all having a disagreement when she showed up. But that it was Amanda who tried to kill us after because of our fight. Better still, Amanda supposedly ran off after firing a shot at Lestrade, but only Lestrade never saw Amanda because he hadn’t made it out the woods in time to see her.”

John scoffed at Allison’s story. "It doesn't even make sense!"

“Well,” Sherlock went on, “Nonetheless, Scotland Yard decided to give her the benefit of doubt, especially when Interpol confirmed she did, in fact, have a twin sister. They went out to the property and found Amanda’s husband locked up in a cage; he was malnourished and in pretty bad shape. Allison had kept him locked up for years. I’m not exactly sure how she managed that, but he directed the police to Amanda’s body in the backyard, confessing to her accidental murder and in turn putting the suspicion firmly back on Allison. And when he is released from the hospital he will be facing a prison sentence.

Anyways, when Allison was told that they had dug up her sister’s body and her brother-in-law was in custody she started to confess everything, everything except where she hid all the money she conned out of couples over the years. She even told them one of the earlier couples she sold into an underground sex ring.”

“Christ,” John said softly. 

“Yu _ p _ . That about covers it. You won’t be writing this one up will you?”

“Actually, I already have a title,  _ How Sherlock Holmes became my Boyfriend _ .”

Sherlock grimaced. “How about just a private record of how you and I became an item? One that you don’t publish on your blog, hmm?”

“Are you ashamed of me Sherlock? I was totally joking about the title.”

“No, no. I'm not ashamed of you, in fact, I’m even willing to hold your hand in public if you like; but if you publish the story people will not only have an insight into my, no our private life that I try so hard to keep them out of, they will also see how slow I was and a fool too.”

“What are you on about Sherlock?”

“You John, it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize what you and I shared and that it was nothing to fear. I’m sure everyone else probably already assumed you and I was an item simply by the way we carry on, all domestic-like. You even stopped seeing women.”

“Nothing wrong with being cautious Sherlock, I was equally so.”

“But you’re you, everyone expects me to be ahead of the game and so clever.” Sherlock paused, “No offense John.”

“None taken. Sherlock, one thing is still bothering me, though.”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing against the fairer sex, but how did Allison pull all of this off? I mean she was just a woman living her life before her sister’s murder.”

“Yes.”

“Where did she get the connects for the sex ring and the knowledge for pulling off kidnappings and money smuggling? These aren’t things you can just look up in the phonebook and find a shop for. She had to have been working with someone else. Someone who connected her with all the right people or someone who simply supplied what she needed.”

“Very good John.”

“Well? Since this has obviously already occurred to you what was it then? How did she do it?”

“She eventually dropped a name, Jim Moriarty. Lestrade asked me had I ever heard it before, I told him I had not.”

“But you have.”

Sherlock nodded once to John. “Yes, I have. As you may recall several cases back, the man who tried to kill his entire company with poison? He told us all the arrangements had been made by a Jim Moriarty. But I never able to find anything on him.”

“Well, the case is solved, or as solved as it’s getting, onto more pleasant things if only for the evening.”

“And what do you have in mind John?”

“Oh nothing fancy, maybe some take out and some crap telly.”

“Oh, you do know the way to my heart.”

“Course I do, it’s straight through the chest.” John smiled at Sherlock. 

Sherlock smiled back. “Can it be Thai? We haven’t had Thai in a while.”

“We had Thai the night before going to the resort.”

“That was lifetimes ago.”

John stood up, leaning over Sherlock and waited for him to tip his face up to meet him halfway for a kiss. When he did he kissed him softly, just a mere meeting of the lips. “Course we can have Thai,” he said pulling away.

 

A couple hours later John sighed, Sherlock lay cuddled up against him. They had opted to watch a movie instead of whatever was on the television, halfway through it Sherlock had fallen asleep. And John was perfectly contented to look down on Sherlock sleeping but his arm had fallen asleep and he was extremely uncomfortable. But at the same time, he didn’t want to wake Sherlock up. He knew he hadn’t had much sleep since before going to the resort. It had been one case straight into another and then the past couple of days following Allison’s arrest had been just as hectic. 

Placing several kisses to the top of Sherlock’s head, with his curls tickling his nose he called to him, “Sherlock, wake up love.” Sherlock didn’t respond. So John shook him slightly. “Sherlock.” The sleeping man shifted, successfully freeing John’s trapped arm. John groaned silently at the sensation began returning to his arm. Once feeling was completely back he ran that hand up and down Sherlock’s back, “Sherlock.”

“How am I supposed to sleep when you won’t stop moving or talking? Although I did like the bit when you kissed my head and called me love.” Sherlock complained sleepily.

“You cock.” John said without malice, “You awake this entire time?”

“Course not, but you won’t stop moving. Or yammering”

“Well, let’s get you into bed, you’ll be more comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable here.”

“I’ll come too.” John chuckled as he watched Sherlock stumble to his feet. 

He turned out the lights and television before leading Sherlock down to his room.

 

John listened to Sherlock’s gentle snoring for a couple of hours. He was too wound up, his mind traversing over everything, there was a lot to process. Sherlock had insisted on holding John when they laid down, and he was still holding John to him like he was his own personal teddy bear. And in a sense, John supposed that he was. 

 

Sherlock woke gradually, stretching, causing his body to stretch taut against John’s backside. Glancing over his shoulder Sherlock checked the time, he’d slept a solid 8 or so hours, that was almost unheard of; he could just see proof of the sun rising out of the window.  Sherlock allowed his hands to roam freely over John’s upper body, he liked touching him. But this was so new to their relationship it almost felt like he was invading John’s privacy. 

“John,” Sherlock whispered along the shell of his ear. He’d woken aroused and for once he could have the real thing and not something imagined. “John.” Sherlock tried again as he kissed at the pulse at John’s neck. When he got no response he bit down gently. John mumbled and arched back into Sherlock moaning. So John liked that, did he? He repeated the action but this time he ran the tip of his tongue over that sensitive spot before he bit down, and not as gently. John moaned and arched into him again. 

Sherlock moaned John’s name against his neck, tightening his hold around John he ground his erection against the shorter man. 

John definitely couldn’t complain about the manner in which Sherlock chose to wake him up. He was pressing himself as firmly as he could against Sherlock, Sherlock was deliciously hard and rubbing all of that deliciousness against him. 

John gasped, choking on Sherlock’s name as Sherlock’s hand plunged down the front of his pyjama bottoms taking him in hand, stroking him languidly. “Sher-lock…” John gasped again.

Sherlock had one hand wrapped loosely around John’s neck holding him in place while he kissed, sucked and nibbled along that sensitive area. 

“Sherlock, let me see you.” John pleaded.

Sherlock reluctantly let John go, allowing him to turn in his arms so that they faced one another.

John looked at Sherlock, he’d waited so long for this. He wasted no time burying his hands in Sherlock’s curls and dragged his mouth down to meet his in a frantic kiss.

As if Sherlock could tell what John was thinking he broke the kiss off, “John, I’m not going anywhere, I’m not changing my mind. I’m here.”

John kissed Sherlock again, slower, turning so he lay over Sherlock and nestled between his legs. 

Sherlock sighed as John kissed a path across his jaw and down his neck, all the while running his hands over his body and whispering, “I’ve wanted you for so long Sherlock.” John continued a path across Sherlock's shoulders, nipping at his biceps, “I love your arms, and your hands, your fingers. John placed a kiss in the center of Sherlock’s palm and kissed each finger in turn. In fact, John took his time kissing and nibbling every inch of Sherlock, making love to his mind as well as his body. 

John paused over Sherlock's cock, it was already ready and leaking. Looking up he saw Sherlock watching him, while holding eye contact he swallowed Sherlock down. 

Sherlock was frantic with need. He gripped at John’s short hair as John worked him in and out of his mouth. He was a tangle of nerve endings, never would he have dreamed that John was so good with his mouth. Every time he felt close to coming John expertly eased back keeping him on the edge. Sherlock was beyond ready to consummate their relationship, but every time he begged John to take him, John reminded him that they had all the time in the world. 

Sherlock moaned loudly as he felt John’s cold slick finger gently work its way inside him. Where did he even find lube? Sherlock’s hands tightened in John’s hair as John ran his tongue around the head of his cock while simultaneously working now two fingers in and out of him. “John! Please, mercy!”

John let Sherlock slide from his mouth and crawled up Sherlock’s lithe body, kissing and nipping along the way. He loved to see Sherlock writhe with need, hearing his name like a broken prayer. Sherlock was wholly beautiful like this and he told him so.

“Please John, please.”

John took pity on Sherlock and kissed him as he slowly slid into his tight entrance. He really hadn’t prepped Sherlock enough considering his size, but Sherlock had been quite insistent. He had to go slowly and be careful not to hurt Sherlock.

Sherlock’s body was on fire and John was the only thing that could put it out, even to Sherlock’s fevered mind that analogy made no sense seeing how John was the cause of said fire. 

He dug his nails into John’s shoulders, his toes curled; this, was sweet torture, John was well endowed and he should have allowed for more prep time but he had been an impatient lover. “John!” he breathed out roughly. 

“Are you alright?” John's voice shook with the effort to not move.

“Yesss…”

John bent capturing Sherlock’s lips, sucking on the bottom one before sliding his tongue in to explore the recesses of his mouth. Sherlock flexed his hips upward causing John to tear his mouth away in a loud groan, “Sherrrr-lock…” 

Sherlock repeated the move. “This isn’t my first time now bloody move.”

John growled low in his throat at the command. Sherlock wanted him to move, he’d bloody fucking move. John pulled out until just the head of his cock was inside Sherlock, kissing him roughly he thrust in, pulling a loud moan from Sherlock. “Fuuuck Sherlock.” John hooked a hand beneath Sherlock's knee bring it up as he established a rhythm. “Aaagh...Sher- fuck love.”

Sherlock realized with glee that John was an extremely verbal lover, all loud moans, deep growls, peppered in with bits of profanity and sweet endearments. 

And Sherlock himself was more of a feeling person, he closed his eyes and took it all in, no pun intended. He dug his nails into John with abandon, he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, he gave small moans of delight. And John relished every bit of it, watching Sherlock as the early morning light crept into the room.

Suddenly Sherlock blurted out, “Up John!” It took a moment for John’s mind to catch up to Sherlock. “What?”

“Up! I want to turn over.”

John pulled out of Sherlock not missing his wince of discomfort before he turned over with his arse wiggling delightfully in the air. John brought his pelvic  flush to Sherlock, running both hands over his arse, down into the gentle dip of his back and up over the expanse, gripping his shoulders. He leaned forward and placed kisses across his shoulders, and when Sherlock wiggled his arse again impatiently he slapped him lightly drawing a surprised yelp from Sherlock. John smiled to himself as he kissed and drew circles down the middle of Sherlock’s back with tongue. 

Sherlock pushed back on John’s erection, he truly didn’t have the patience for this, he needed John back inside him like his life depended on, his sanity most definitely did. “John please.”

“Please? Please, what?” John asked in between bites on one of Sherlock’s hips. 

“Plea- hmmmm...please John, I nee-aaahh”

“Do you have any idea how long you’ve kept me waiting? How long I’ve wanted this?” John smacked Sherlock on the arse again, but this time Sherlock was ready for it, he arched back into John, “Yes…”

John leaned forward burying his face in Sherlock’s neck as he started to stroke him. “Christ you’re so fucking hot. I’m going to make you scream my name over and over again.”

“Aaah...mmm...John yesss, pleassse.” Sherlock begged.

"I like it when you beg." John began moving then, short, deep, thrust as he stroked Sherlock. He sucked at the sensitive skin just behind Sherlock’s ear. “Tell me what you want, tell me ho- fuuuck!” John interrupted himself when Sherlock started thrusting into his hand. “Sherlock! What. Do. You. Want?”

“Hips! Myyy hips.”

John pulled back grabbing Sherlock by the hips, he started driving himself into him, grunting with each thrust.

“Ha-harder!” Sherlock’s breaths were stuttered, cut off by every hard thrust that John gave. “Jo-Joohn....yes...just...like that...aaaghmmm.”

John was gripping Sherlock’s hips so tight his knuckles had gone white. “Sher-Sher-lock...Christ, you feel so good...fuck.”

Sherlock began stroking himself frantically. Their moans filled the room, the sounds of skin hitting skin. Sherlock gripped the sheets, resting his forehead on the bed as he moaned John’s name repeatedly.

John ran a hand down the center of Sherlock's slick back, threading his fingers in the damp curls at the base of his neck. He tugged lightly, come for me Sherlock, come for me, love.” 

John reached down and wrapped his hand around Sherlock's, their hands stroking him together. John stopped thrusting, completely concentrating on Sherlock. He nipped at his shoulder blades, his triceps and when Sherlock’s hand started to falter he took over. “That's it Sherlock, yes baby. Come for me.” John gave short shallow thrust brushing over Sherlock’s prostate causing Sherlock to scream out his name. “John! Oh G- John...mmm...coming John!”

John felt Sherlock spurt his seed, some coating his hand but most of it hitting the bed, he continued to stroke Sherlock, helping him through his orgasm, and when he was done he gently pulled out and helped Sherlock roll over onto his back away from the wet spot.

“What- what about you? Sherlock asked breathlessly.

“Oh. I'm not down with you yet Mr. Holmes.” John guided himself back into Sherlock, eyes fluttering shut with the sensation. “Fuck you feel so good Sherlock.” John moved slowly, he kissed Sherlock, running his tongue across the seam of his mouth, tracing before sliding in. 

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's neck, kissing him back, their tongues gliding, sliding around one another. This was so different than before, John was being gentle with him now, almost as if he was afraid Sherlock would shatter. 

John cupped Sherlock’s face as he deepened the kiss, drawing Sherlock’s tongue into his own mouth sucking on it. He loved the little sounds Sherlock was making, he wanted nothing more than to hear him make these sounds forever. Lifting his head he pulled out of the kiss. He gripped Sherlock’s thigh, shifting as he picked up speed again. Sherlock’s eyes were closed and his mouth hung slightly open. “Look at me, Sherlock.”

Sherlock opened his blue eyes and looked up into John’s hazel eyes.

“I love you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock raised his head, kissing John. He felt like crying again, he didn’t want John to see that, so he kissed him. 

John pulled away abruptly, increasing his tempo. “Sher...I’m so close love...so- aagh..nnngh. Sherlock!”

Sherlock was rotating his hips up, meeting John thrust for thrust. “Your turn to come for _me_ now.”

“Mmm...yes.” 

John thrust hard, his rhythm thrown off by his impending orgasm. “I’m coming Sherlock, I’m- God I love you!” John’s body shook with the intensity of his orgasm, his muscles weakened and he collapsed on top of Sherlock, breaths coming fast.

Sherlock felt tears running down his face, hecouldn't stop the tears any longer, he wrapped his arms around John, “That’s just the endorphins speaking John.” 

Sherlock yelped, John had bitten him none too gently on the shoulder. “Fine, I love you too.” 

John lifted his head and framed Sherlock’s face between his hands, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends this bit of drabble turned into more by request. Not my favorite bit of work, but it's passable. The last chapter, Epilogue is for Mrs. Eva Holmes...Hope it is...satisfactory.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read and commented. Hope you have enjoyed this...


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